


Look, Don't Touch

by oolongteawithpudding



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Fantasizing, Hawkeye's sex musings, M/M, Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Repression, Unresolved Tension, but not overt, yes I know army showers don't have hot water don't come for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oolongteawithpudding/pseuds/oolongteawithpudding
Summary: For context, I've only watched til half of of season 3, so I don't know all the plot developments yet.Also, feedback is love, feedback is life! Enjoy <3
Relationships: Radar O'Reilly/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Kudos: 30





	Look, Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> For context, I've only watched til half of of season 3, so I don't know all the plot developments yet.  
> Also, feedback is love, feedback is life! Enjoy <3

Hawkeye sat in the mess tent, picking at his mush, eyes casually following Radar as he went about his mail call duties. He knew he couldn't do anything about it. He knew Radar was busy swooning over that bookish nurse, but Hawkeye couldn't keep his mind off him. He'd always been able to push his interest in guys to the sidelines, but this was sudden. Radar's little laugh would pop up in his head in the middle of surgery, his shy smile in the mess tent gathering his morning cup of coffee, the image of his shirtless chest during drills... It was like some sort of twisted earworm, except instead of an overplayed Christmas tune, it was a film reel's worth of filthy thoughts that could earn him a dishonorable discharge.

The solution was obvious. Hawkeye could barely admit it to himself, but last night's hot dream had tipped him over the edge. It went something like, Frank and Hot Lips yelling at him, Hot Lips sucking at his neck, and Radar pressed against his side. In the dream, Hawkeye had barely heard Radar whisper, "Please". Hawkeye shivered at the thought. The image of Radar shivering against his touch, totally docile, was almost too much for him. He couldn’t push it away for much longer.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hawkeye stumbled into the shower tent, closing the door behind him. He carefully undid his robe, revealing a pair of olive drab boxers, which he hastily removed. He stood there, listening to the crickets, shivering. He hadn't expected Korea to be cold. Trapper had said the weather was just like in Boston. It made sense when he looked at the map, but, when he was drafted, he'd hoped to at least be stationed somewhere with nice weather. At least he could douse himself in warmth.  
Hawkeye stepped toward one of the back corner stalls. He'd often masturbated like this, under cover, but this seemed different. He'd always thought of women, soft hair, curvy figures, round breasts. If someone overheard him moan a woman's name, they wouldn't question it at all. Now, he was naked in the showers with nothing but men on his mind. Hawk could get lost in here, meditate himself away to some place where warm water flowed everywhere and everyone was homosexual. God, he hadn’t stressed this much since they’d had to outsmart that lousy North Korean sniper.

Hawkeye frowned at the memory. He’d take 5 o’clock Charlie over that any day. He chuckled to himself. All these zany characters making their entrances, almost as if they were putting on a show, all the while forcing the gang to bond closer and closer. It reminded him of Camp Chippewa back home. They even had the same tents. Then there were those same thoughts. It was the first time Hawkeye had seen another man naked, in his camp tent. There was a branded wooden sign tacked on the front that read “Grizzlys”, with the pawprint of a bear to match. He’d returned home with a strange feeling in his chest, like the feeling when he looked at a pretty girl, only with his heart thumping harder.

His heart was going a mile a minute now. He stepped through the wooden swing door and pulled the chain, releasing a stream of hot water. Ah. He ducked down, wetting his head. He raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He liked the way the water flowed down away from himself, all the gore and grime of the day gone down the drain, just the TV static dancing before his eyelids. He leaned his weight against the side of the stall, letting the water hypnotize him til his surroundings disappeared.  
He wondered how Radar took his showers. He was a hell of a lot shorter than Hawkeye, so he probably didn’t have to duck his head every time he wanted to get wet. Hawkeye wondered what it was like being short. He wondered if his girlfriends seemed like Amazons, or if he played the little spoon during cuddling. Oh, to have a warm body next to you all night. It reminded Hawk of the times he’d huddled for warmth with Trapper, though nothing had ever turned sexual. As strange as it was to admit, he wished friends could bond so intimately like that more often. Two souls so close together that they dream together, know one another’s secrets, knowing the contours of the body against you. He wondered how Trap would feel about that back home, provided they’d all get there in one piece.

Ah, well, it didn’t concern him. People who go to war together just have something. Combine that bond with loneliness, and you’ve got next Friday’s new VD lecture. Hawkeye turned the water off. He didn’t want to deprive the rest of the outfit of warm water; that would be cruel. Hawkeye stood there, hair dripping, cold, and walked toward the door in defeat. He tied his red robe, slipped on his boots, and trudged on back to the Swamp.

\---------------------------------

Hawkeye was greeted with the sight of Frank slumped over on his bed, asleep, holding a letter from home in his hand. It always amused him, the sight of married men splitting their heads in two- one section for the wife, the other for a pair of hot lips. Hawkeye’d always told people he’d meant to get married, but, here he was, a bachelor at 30. It didn’t bother him like people said it should. If he ever got a wife, he’d be sure to set up some threesomes on the regular. One time back home, he’d gotten two girls in bed with him. It was a haze of kissing, stroking, a challenge of pleasuring two at once. The girls had done it to each other, too. He wondered if they ever did that alone together.

Hawkeye hooked his robe on the door, and buried himself in his wooly blanket. He’d often heard talk of devil’s threesomes, with two guys and a girl. He was well aware it was a possibility, but it just never happened for him. He wondered if guys could lose their inhibitions like that, start kissing each other like Molly and Sally had done. To get tangled up with a guy, loving on a woman together, loving on each other- Hawkeye realized he liked that idea very much. He breathed out, and burrowed further into his blanket. He was starting to get hard, he could feel it.

How would it happen with Radar? Hawk could sit with him, crack jokes, make him blush. It was adorable how easily he got flustered. Or, they could get drunk together, follow those lost inhibitions, get the Swamp to themselves for a night. But, the best sex he had had been in the supply shed, having quickies up against the wall, waiting for someone to come in and bust you. But, that was a ticket straight for a dishonorable discharge if he were to do that with a man. Even Hawkeye knows that some things in the military you just can’t change.

The last time he’d had sex was about a week ago, with the lovely brown-haired nurse with that sweet voice. She’d whined and gasped in God’s name as they’d fucked, missionary style, her pants in a jumble on the floor. Hawkeye had to tuck his dog tags into his shirt to keep them from clanking. She’d loved having her nipples teased; it brought her to a fast climax. But, after she’d put her pants back on, Hawkeye was left lying on two storage boxes, slick wetness lingering on his hands and pants. He’d licked his fingers clean and washed up in the sink. She was probably married. Crazy.

He’d thought often about what kind of noises he could pull out of Radar. Radar was a Catholic, so he was bound to have a little guilt, be a little quiet. Yes, he was one to stay quiet at first, but, Hawkeye knew the brain sort of goes blank when you’re really about to cum. Hawkeye would pull Radar up against him, stroke him up front and dig his own erection into Radar’s backside. Let him feel how turned on he was. Then, he’d stroke him faster, til Radar’s little gasps turned to moans.

Hawkeye palmed his cock through his boxers. Yeah, he was definitely hard now. All he had to do was imagine Radar’s strained whimpers to earn a dribble of precum. He wondered if Radar liked being pinned, bitten. Everyone seems to think of him as innocent, but Hawkeye knew that innocent people have the biggest perversions. With every bite and hickey, Hawkeye would wreck him, leaving him a mess. He’d be so desperate to cum he’d beg. Hawkeye might give him what he wanted, might not. Yes, he’d love to draw it out, having to cover his hand over Radar’s mouth so he wouldn’t wake the whole camp. Hawkeye would withold his touch, making Radar beg and plead even more. Then, it would only take a few strokes to set him over the edge, convulsing into a gasping mess.

Maybe Radar would like to taste it- after all, the guy will eat anything. Hawkeye would be curious if Radar’s tasted different from his. Hawkeye squeezed his eyes tight, pumping his fist, making sure his heavy breathing wasn’t waking up Frank or Trapper. He was vaguely aware he was about to cum, inhaling sharply, grinding his hips into his fist. He thought of biting Radar's neck, coaxing out moans, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He came all over his olive drab boxer shorts, letting out a sigh. After a moment to catch his breath, he threw them in the general direction of his laundry bag, and picked up a fresher pair of boxers under the cot.

Hawkeye loved to stay together and cuddle after sex, even with one-night stands. The things one admits in the nighttime can be sacred. It’s another kind of lovemaking, like bonding between friends, but with attraction added into the mix. Skin is so smooth, it’s funny. You don’t really notice it when dealing with your own, but touching skin-to-skin is pure velvet. He’d make Radar a drink after, even though he could barely get a glass of gin down. This wouldn’t be a one-time fix, he knew that. Radar simply intoxicated him too much. Boy, if only he could know the madness he inspired…


End file.
